


The Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz Christmas Spectacular

by KastleInTheSky



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Buddy comedy, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Foggy is obviously a sweetheart, Jessica is not so obviously a sweetheart, Occasionally I Give A Damn, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KastleInTheSky/pseuds/KastleInTheSky
Summary: Jeri Hogarth commissions an unmotivated and still traumatized Jessica Jones to accompany a recently-dumped Foggy Nelson to the Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz Christmas party so that his heartbroken antics don't jeopardize an upcoming merger. AKA Jessica ends up with an open bar, a messed up hand, and an unlikely kind-of-friendship with one Foggy Nelson.





	The Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz Christmas Spectacular

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Thank you for reading (or attempting to) my contribution to the Defenders Big Bang! All artwork will be provided by LasenbyPhoenix, who's additional art you can find at lasenbyphoenix.tumblr.com !

Jessica found it was a thousand times more difficult to sleep on Trish’s Egyptian, imported, feathered, whatever-the-fuck mattress than it ever was on the piece of crap back in her old apartment. She loved Trish though, more than sleep itself apparently, and if Trish felt more comfortable with Jessica living with her after the “incident” with Kilgrave, then that’s what she had to do.

 

It was of some consolation that that was the case, seeing as since the “incident” (as she’d been advised to refer to it by her attorney), she couldn’t stop her subconscious mind from thrusting her back to that moment and ones before it. Some of it was still about Kilgrave even though that bastard was long gone, him and everyone else – the Schlottmans, Ruben and Robyn, even Trish herself. Even though their ordeal was over, she found that something deep in her mind would never let her forget the complete upheaval, even destruction she’d caused in so many helpless people’s lives.

 

Jessica found she couldn’t even drink away the pain anymore. No, instead of numbing her to the world around her like that good ole’ bottle of whiskey always had, drinking made it worse.  It was like she _really_ was beginning to lose it now, hearing things, unable to stop her train of rolling thoughts once her dizzy mind was on them all.

 

The night before in a moment of weakness, Jessica found herself drifting off only to be met with Hope Schlottman returning to slit Jessica’s throat. The mattress she guessed was the least of her worries.

 

Jessica turned over onto her side, the navy blue sheets tangling between her legs as she looked out at the sea of skyscrapers on another wonderfully dismal day in Hell’s Kitchen. She’d heard Trish wake up hours ago, probably somewhere close to an ungodly five in the morning, and begin her morning workout, followed by cooking breakfast and filming an update for her YouTube channel. Sometimes Jessica thought that with all the money Trish had, some thicker walls wouldn’t be too much to ask for, but ungratefulness was too ugly a guise, even for Jessica.

 

She pushed herself up off her side, still not used to the absence of soreness or pain in her body. She had been keeping a low profile for quite some time now, and part of her agreement with Trish meant she wasn’t allowed to drink in the apartment. No job, no money for booze. Sober or not, the sun cascading through the bedroom curtains was still a lot for her. Jessica squinted deeply, rubbing her eyes and waiting for them to adjust, but not before knocking into the nightstand and swearing under her breath as she attempted to get up anyway.

 

“Morning!” she heard Trish yell happily through the door. Jessica grabbed a sweatshirt draped on a lounge chair and dressed herself before exiting.

 

“Good morning,” she said grumpily before the door was fully opened. The sun out in the living room was far worse. Jessica draped her entire right arm over her eyes and her feet scraped the hardwood floor towards the kitchen.

 

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Trish inquired. She’d been set up on her kitchen island, before her an open laptop, a cup of coffee, and a half-eaten grapefruit. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, as she often did when she did busy work at home, the inside of her computer glasses smudged like she’d been rubbing at her eyes consistently.

 

“Of course not,” Jessica mumbled and she poured herself some coffee and took a seat on the stool next to Trish.

 

“Because you know, I’d been thinking about having some people come in here and add some more insulation in the walls…”

 

“Really, it’s okay,” Jessica replied with a sad smile on her face. “I was up anyway.”

 

“Still not sleeping?” Trish asked, her face now rested on her two palms.

 

Jessica sighed. “Still not sleeping,” she huffed. “But if I’m being honest, I’d probably prefer it.”

 

From over on the sofa somewhere, Jessica could hear her cell phone begin to vibrate. Whatever.

 

“Same dreams?” Trish prodded, clicking the final touches to her video and closing her laptop.

 

Jessica sighed. Even in her wakened state she could see the twisted snarl on Kilgrave’s face, the sweet and defeated fading glimmer in Hope’s eye’s. Same dreams every single night, even after all Jessica’s done to help the Schlottman’s, Trish, herself, and now plenty of other people in this goddamn city. Same dreams of every time it wasn’t enough.

 

“Makes me wish for the good ole’ days when the worst thing that happened in my dreams was giving a naked speech in front of Mr. Whickle’s debate class,” Jessica huffed.

 

From the sofa another set of phone vibrations went off. Trish twisted around in her seat, motioning towards the buzzing.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” she asked.

“No,” Jessica replied deadpan, leaving no room for thought.

“What if it’s work?”

“Oh, wow, you’re right,” Jessica sarcastically agreed, nevertheless still rising from her seat and heading towards the couch. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint my fans now, would I?”

 

She found the phone somewhere buried beneath the cushions, and upon looking at the screen, she found that she had indeed missed 8 calls from Alias Investigations. She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing Malcolm, her exhaustingly impassioned front desk “intern”, was probably in a frenzy knowing he couldn’t reach her. It was apparently only a twinge, for sure, as Jessica found somehow she still didn’t have the energy to deal with his situations this early.

 

“When was the last time you went over there?” Trish asked softly.

“To work?” Jessica asked, approaching the kitchen again. “Hmm, what’s the date, the 17th?”

“Yes,” Trish agreed.

“Yeah, still no clue,” Jessica huffed.

“Jessica…” Trish chastised.

 

Jessica began clanging and banging around Trish’s cupboards looking for a bowl to build her cereal in as Trish began what Jessica anticipated to be a motivational diatribe.

“Jess, I think it’d be good if you started getting out more. Go back to work, help some good people. Maybe it’ll take your mind off of everything.”

“Or remind me of how I got in this mess in the first place?” Jessica countered.

 

On the table, the cell phone began to vibrate again. Both women looked towards it, and continued their discussion.

 

“Jess, I will tell you time and time again that I know how hard it’s been for you,” Trish began. She rose from her stool and slowly paced over to where Jessica was, aggressively opening cabinets looking for the Honey Bunches of Oats. Trish leaned her hip gingerly against the marble counter, an empathic expression aimed at Jessica.

“But if you don’t try to help yourself come out of this, you’ll be stuck in this rut for good, I think.”

 

Jessica jerked open the refrigerator, effectively ignoring Trish, but all the while dreading coming to terms with the fact that Trish wasn’t wrong.

 

“Jessica,” Trish called again, this time reaching her hand out to cup Jessica’s shoulder tenderly. “Look at me,” she begged.

 

Jessica complied, and she set down her cereal ingredients concededly on the counter, finally turning to face Trish head on.

 

“I get it,” Jessica huffed. “I get it. I’ll be fine, I swear. I figured I just needed to keep my mind off anything that had to do with Kilgrave and maybe it’d all get better.”

 

“I know,” Trish whispered, pulling Jessica into an unexpected embrace. Jessica was usually naturally averted to physical contact, but she could always make an exception for Trish.  As she did, Jessica’s cell phone began to vibrate once again, this time creating a harsher tremor atop the marble countertop.

 

“It’s work, isn’t it?” Trish asked.

Jessica exhaled. “Yep.”

“I think you should take it,” Trish suggested. “I mean hey, if he’s called this much it’s got to be important, right?”

Trish pulled away from Jessica smiling enthusiastically.

“Hey,” she began. “Maybe it’ll actually be a fun one!”

 

Jessica chuckled. “Yeah, right.” She stared at the phone, once again flashing “Alias Investigations” up at her. Trish nodded towards it as she moved back towards her stool at the island.

“Go on,” Trish nudged.

Jessica heaved deeply, not looking forward to this in the slightest.  She slid the screen over to receive the call, and reluctantly brought it to her ear.

 

“Hell-ooooo…” she groaned.

 

“"JESSICA!" Malcolm's voice blared loudly through the phone, so much so that even Trish lifted her head in curiosity.

Momentarily jerking the phone away from her ear, Jessica retorted angrily, "Jesus! Hey, haven't you heard of a text message? Tell the landlord I'll have his money by next week, and ask him if he's paid off his hospital bill from last time yet."

"Jessica, you have had a client waiting here for you for an HOUR now..." Malcolm began. Jessica then heard Malcolm garble distractedly at someone in front of him and a familiar woman's voice demanding, "Give me the phone. GIVE ME, the PHONE!"

 

The voice undoubtedly belonged to one Jeri Hogarth, who Jessica happily had fallen into _very_ limited contact with in recent months. Jessica felt the sensation of her utter disinterest begin to pulse into biting annoyance.

 

“Tell Hogarth that in order to be a _client_ , she has to MAKE AN APPOINTMENT,” Jessica yelled. She could hear a scrambling on the other end, objects on Malcolm’s desk being pushed over and Malcolm attempting to keep composure while trying to maintain possession of the phone, but ultimately Jessica heard a sharp “Ow!” as the phone crashed down on the floor.

 

"I'm sorry, is today a holiday where you're from?" Hogarth hissed once she finally apprehended the phone off the ground. "Because every other normal person I know is at WORK."

 

Jessica let out a dry chuckle. "Normal?" she asked. "You consider me normal? Well I'll be damned, that's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to be."

 

Hogarth groaned. "Jessica, get over here right now, I have something to discuss with you."

 

“Again, nothing that couldn’t be settled with less than…” Jessica checked her phone log. “… nine phone calls?”

Jessica looked up to see Trish’s face taut with confusion, mouthing the words “what is it” silently. Jessica raised a quick hand, an attempt to motion, “don’t worry, I got it.”

“Besides,” she continues. “I thought we agreed on a “no-contact order “ or whatever after the…”

“Yes, we did…” Hogarth rushed, “and you better believe that I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t in…. a really odd place.”

“And in need of an oddity?” Jessica challenged. By now, Trish and weaseled her ear right up to the back of Jessica’s receiver, mouthing messages to her again.

“Is that Hogarth?!” Trish gaped. Jessica was swatting her away like a winter-born mosquito.

“I need to you come in, Jessica,” Hogarth began to calmly beg. “Just come in so we can talk.”

“No, no, no…” Jessica mocked. “That’s not how this works. You need to let me know what I may be getting into BEFORE I put on clean pants, understand?”

 

Hogarth laughed breathily on the other line, and Jessica could sense her whirling thoughts try to collect themselves. On her end, Trish was still trying, aggressively so, to get Jessica to share what was happening. Jessica paced around the room in an attempt to flee Trish’s persistence, and Trish followed.

“I don’t even know how to really start this,” Hogarth began, still laughing, Jessica noted. “This isn’t… this isn’t like anything I’ve ever asked you to do before…”

“And…?” Jessica prodded. “What, am I going to have to play prostitute for you now?”

“Almost,” Hogarth affirmed.

“WHAT?!” Jessica exclaimed, positioning the phone in front of her, a gesture of whole-hearted, aggravated bewilderment.

 

Trish began to fervently motion to Jessica to put the phone on speaker and allow her to get the entire story. She wasn’t patient enough, it seemed, as in the next second, Trish was grabbing the phone away from Jessica’s ear, quickly tapping the speaker key, and delicately placing the phone on the marble top as to not give away her presence.

 

“Then you’re going to have to explain a little bit better,” Jessica blared as she hurried towards the phone again. “Because that’s going to warrant a big FUCK NO from me otherwise.”

 

“Okay, let me put it this way,” Hogarth replied. “There’s this… there’s this lawyer at the firm, okay? His name is Franklin Nelson, he’s… new, I guess you could say, been here only about a year.”

 

Trish shook her head as her focus shifted from the phone to Jessica.

“It’s always a man,” she mouthed.

 

Hogarth went on, ”Anyway, he was supposedly dating another attorney at the firm…”  
“Seeing a pattern,” Jessica interrupted.

“Deserved that,” Hogarth admitted. “She apparently broke things off with him in favor of one of our more prominent partners, and the kid… has just been an absolute menace if I’m putting it honestly. He mopes, just SITS at his desk for hours at a time this… GOD AWFUL, droopy face. You can hear him crying at all hours of the day, sometimes into the evening. He hasn’t taken a single case we’ve handed to him, and I mean HANDED; we’re BEGGING him to take big cases just so he can get his sorry ass and the dark cloud out of the office for a few hours a day!”

  
“So you want me to do WHAT with this guy?” Jessica yelled.

 

“I…” Hogarth mumbled. “Jesus, I don’t know why I can’t just say it. I… we’re having a Christmas Party, the firm. We’ve invited another huge firm from Manhattan to join us. We’re trying to get a merger; it’s going to be very important that everything runs SMOOTHLY, Jessica, do you understand?”

 

“You want me to chaperone this poor sap at your party so he doesn’t blow your big merger with his piss-poor attitude,” Jessica replied, the scenario now clicking in her head.

Hogarth signed with exasperated relief. “Yes,” she smiled, “Yes, exactly. He’s sitting at the table with us, Jessica; he’s supposed to be a big part of the pitch. I just need someone there to take his mind off everything so he doesn’t blow everything.”

 

Jessica stared in front of her at the glowing screen at Trish’s face almost combusting with excitement. Trish had jumped from her stool and began to hop around the island as if it had been she who’d been roped into the fancy lawyer Christmas party, and she got to go with George Clooney instead of a big, mope-y mess.

 

“You have to go!” Trish’s excitement was so extreme that her mouthing words turned into a rushed whisper. “That’d be perfect for you!”

 

“Is someone there with you?” Hogarth asked suspiciously.

 

“No!” Jessica shouted. She flapped her arms up and down trying to settle Trish down. “It’s just the TV… “ She sighed. “Okay, so what, all I have to do is take this kid to the ball and make sure he doesn’t turn into a bigger pumpkin than he already is?”

“In so many words,” Hogarth confirmed. “Yes.”

 

Trish was a pathetic sight at this point, her fingers interlocked with one another in a desperate prayer for Jessica to say yes to this proposition. Jessica snarled half her mouth into a reluctant grimace, wanting so desperately to be able to say no.

 

“I… “ Jessica grumbled, until she had to break.

“I gotta put you on hold,” she blurted, quickly tapping the mute button on the screen.

“Jessica, come ON!” Trish begged immediately.

“That couldn’t be any more perfect for what we were JUST talking about. You could use a night out!”

“Yeah, and you think making the transition between PI and babysitter is really going to take the edge off me?

“It’s a win-win situation to me, Jess,” Trish argued. “This guy just needs a little self-confidence boost, you need a night to get out of my damn apartment and clear you head of everything you’ve been dealing with. You help people, Jess. That’s what you do, and you’re good at it. Just think of this as another extension of that!”

 

Jessica hated plenty of things, one of which was how Trish knew how to play exactly at her heartstrings. Trish approached Jessica again, cupping Jessica’s hands in her own.

“Jess, please,” Trish cooed. “Do it for me, huh? It would mean so much for me to see you really trying, especially when it’s for your own good.”

 

Jessica let Trish’s hands cradle her peacefully as  she prepared herself for conceit. Slowly, with Trish nodding fervently as she did, Jessica unmated her phone.

 

“Okay, here are my conditions,” Jessica began.

 

Hogarth groaned, and in the background she could hear Malcolm fearfully pleading with Hogarth to let him answer his other incoming calls.

“Go on,” Hogarth agreed.

“First, if this guy tried to lay a finger on me, he’ll never see it again, understood?”

Hogarth chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.”

“Second,” Jessica continued. “Open bar.”

“Jessica,” Hogarth exclaimed, this time agitated. “I’m paying $400 per plate for this party. A specialty mixed drink is upwards of $80, top shelf spirits ONLY. You know how much it would cost me to satiate a bottomless pit like you?”

“Apparently, the future of your precious merger,” Jessica smirked. “These are my conditions. I figured even lawyers would know a little something about supply and demand, right?”

Hogarth was getting impatient, Jessica could sense.

“Fine,” Hogarth relented. “Open bar.”

“Good,” Jessica smiled. “One last thing.”

“And that would be?” Hogarth enquired.

“I need a fake name,” demanded Jessica.

“A _fake_ name?” Hogarth spat. “For what, dare I ask?”

“To smooth over the eventual inquisition we all get from your fancy Manhattan lawyer friends when they find out you arranged for a depressed partner to attend the Christmas party with a former client accused of murdering the man she claimed mind-controlled her and countless others? Maybe?”

“Hmm…” Hogarth whispered. “I guess you have a point. Alright, it’s a deal. But I pick the name.”

“Yeah, you can call me whatever you want as long as you’re paying for it. Deal.”

 

Hogarth huffed breathily, and Jessica had to admit that she could feel the slightest twinge of relief with Hogarth’s satisfaction.

“You won’t regret this, Jessica,” Hogarth exclaimed.

“Regret it? No, but I’m hoping to throw back enough booze to forget it.”

“I will see you then, I suppose,” Hogarth bid in farewell.

“Merry Christmas,” Jessica retorted. “And make sure you pay my assistant back for any distress you’ve caused him!” With that, Jessica disconnected the call.

 

“I think you did the right thing,” Trish said with pride.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Jessica smiled. “Guess you’re lucky I love you.”

 

Jessica left the edge of the island and returned to her now soggy cereal, twiddling the cold, metal spoon in between her fingers before she picked it up to consume the grainy mush.

“Guess there’s just one thing to worry about now,” she tried to say through the mound of food in her mouth.

“What’s that?” Trish asked curiously.

“I’m going to need a dress.”

 

As it turned out, Hogarth failed to mention to Jessica until way after their conversation that the Christmas party was to take place the night following the phone conversation, which Jessica couldn’t find surprising in the least. She also was not surprised that she’d already informed the Franklin guy that “a nice young woman with dark hair” (the most minimal description you could give of Jessica without getting to the offensive stuff) would be escorting him, and Hogarth had already arranged for a limousine to pick her up outside Jessica’s office.

 

Jessica sat in the low wooden waiting chairs in her front room, slumped down and swigging from a brown-papered flask. The only thing she had found in Trish’s closet that seemed to both fit the occasion and not make Jessica feel like one of those girls who hold the cards up in a boxing match, was a floor-length, straight-hemmed, black velvet dress with spaghetti straps that showed off her pale shoulders. Hopefully she wouldn’t have a need to remove her old beaten leather jacket, Jessica thought. Malcolm sat across from Jessica, still not having gone home for the day, gushing that Jessica should wear a little eyeshadow and a red lip more often. Jessica warmly told him to fuck off.

 

At about a quarter before 7, Jessica received a phone call directly from Hogarth announcing the limo was outside.

“Please behave, Jessica,” Hogarth warned. “I need both of you to be cool-headed and just flat out not doing anything stupid, okay?”

 

Jessica trudged in her usual combat boots down the crooked steps of her building, and, like clockwork, she could hear the usual comings, goings, and screaming of her follow Hell’s Kitchen folk. She found that as affirmatively dreading this night as she was, there was the slightest, most unnerving pinch of anxiety twirling around in her stomach. She tried to stifle it as much as should could by imagining the sad sack she would be accompanying, his tear stained face reflecting a computer screen laden with images of some non-descript looking woman-lawyer, all happening right next to Hogarth’s office and driving her crazy. The latter idea made Jessica smile.

 

Jessica pushed open the heavy, half-broken front door and stepped out into the blistering cold air. A long black stretch limo sat idle directly in front of her; the driver didn’t even turn to acknowledge her, but rather lit a cigarette and took a quick phone call. Only the best from Jeri Hogarth, Jessica thought.

 

Jessica quickly approached the rear-side door, however not before taking a last good swig from the whiskey bottle wrapped in her hand. She was already, for all intents and purposes, completely shitfaced, and she hoped this would be enough to cover her only for the ride over. She inhaled deeply, the bitterness of the cold stinging in conjunction with the alcohol lining her lungs, and she opened the car door. She did so quickly, as to sweep herself inside without being noticed. The air inside the limo was dense, like the heat was up twice-times full blast.

 

“Ugh,” Jessica exclaimed with disgust, throwing away her coat to the other end of the limo and lowering her window for air. The car still sat idle, but Jessica was in a rush to get this hell over with.

  
“Hey!” she yelled up through the divider at the driver. “You getting paid by the hour or something, buddy?”

 

The driver scrambled to end his phone call, mumbling phrases in a different language, effectively cursing Jessica out, she assumed. The car pulled away and onto Jessica’s one-lane street. From what Trish pulled up on Google Maps, the hotel was about ten blocks away, and when Malcolm pulled the address up again on his phone upstairs, it told them those ten blocks would take about a half hour to reach with current traffic.

 

Jessica slumped down into the sticky seat. The cold breeze entering through the window, and she thought it was sobering her up a little, so she chugged another big gulp of whisky and closed her eyes. She tried to drown out the worse-case scenarios she’d conjured – the sad sack cries too much, gets too drunk and throws up on her, or the worst of which, falls in love with her or stalks her or something. With a heavy swallow Jessica pushed them all back and attempted to focus on how fucked up she was currently getting and how fucked up she needed to be to lose the next 5 hours of her life.

 

“Um…”

 

The voice startled Jessica so much she screamed and dropped her thankfully closed bottle on the ground, jolting herself upright. The proximity of the voice alone was enough to scare her. Jessica’s face darted towards the other side of the cabin to confront a sight she was thoroughly shocked to see. The man on the other end was certainly dowdy looking about the face, a little too childlike or mischievous for someone of his position, Jessica thought. The face was long, round about the cheeks (which were practically dyed a bright read), and looked at her with the most painfully confused expression. Somehow, Jessica thought, this face was also a little familiar.

 

“Um…” the man repeated. “I guess you’re uh… Rachel?”

 

Jessica snorted, the only logical reaction for everything that was wrong with this situation.

“No,” she arrogantly corrected. “It’s _Jessica_! OH!” Immediately she realized her error; how could she forget it was her own damn idea to use a fake name? Stupid drunk brain, Jessica thought to herself.

 

“Wait, Jessica?!” the man, obviously one Franklin Nelson, Charity Case of the Year, exclaimed.

“Oh no….” he began to cry, his eyes racing wilding across the car. “No, no, no. You’re not THAT Jessica, are you? That one client who…”

 

“Yeah!” Jessica laughed. “That one! And the only girl delusional enough to be caught dead with you at a function, apparently!”

 

Franklin’s face fell tenfold. He looked downward sullenly, not bothering to add any word in contention or agreement. Surprisingly to her, Jessica began to feel terribly guilty for that outburst.

 

“I, um…” Jessica began, trying to ease the thickening tension. “That makes you Franklin, right? Look, do both of us a favor and don’t tell anyone else who I am, okay? I’m just doing Hogarth, and I guess you a favor. Don’t need any bad publicity at this shindig, right?”

 

Franklin didn’t make any acknowledgements towards Jessica, and she didn’t really blame him.

 

“Hey,” Jessica spoke softly. “I didn’t mean that, I’m… I’m sorry. As you can tell I’m already shitfaced, so… I guess it makes me a little more hostile than…” she contemplated, “usual?”

 

He cleared his throat and sat more upright, a stately position she would expect of a big-ticket lawyer. While Jessica would always inherently think his suit was in fact stupid, she assumed that he was reasonably well dressed. He wore a medium-grey wool suit with a dark purple collared shirt, combined with a purple-and-blue-striped tie and a set of expensive snowflake cufflinks. She wouldn’t pick him up at a bar, but she was sure someone would.

 

“It’s alright,” Franklin replied firmly, though Jessica could tell he still wasn’t completely composed.

“And yeah, that’s me. Except you don’t have to call me Franklin. I’d prefer you don’t, actually. My fr… People usually call me Foggy.”

 

The name Jessica found was also unnervingly familiar to her.

 

“Do you…” she began, wracking her brain. “Did you, uh… who do you know?”

“I’m sorry?” Franklin, now Foggy tried to clarify.

“I mean,” Jessica started again. Stupid drunk-brain. How did she think she recognized him?  
“Were you a TV lawyer or something? You look… you like you could be a TV lawyer”

 

He didn’t look like he was having this AT all, but at the same time cleared his throat and furrowed his brow as if he were preparing to answer.

 

“I was a part of the law firm that represented ‘The Punisher’ Frank Castle. You probably saw it. It was all over the news.”

 

Jessica forced herself off the seat with one hand as she simultaneously stomped her boot on the rug. She knew exactly where she knew this guy from.

 

“You know that asshole DAREDEVIL!” she confirmed aloud to herself.

 

And that was it. That had to be it. Foggy looked like he’s just walked in on his parents having sex while he shit his pants in front of every one of his colleagues all at once, like Jessica had dropped the bomb to end all bombs right in his lap.

 

“SSSHHHHHH!!!” Foggy hissed. He dove over the seat to grab Jessica forcefully over the mouth. The other hand he used to close the window divider so that the douchebag driver could no longer hear them.

 

“HOW IN THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW THAT?” Foggy yelled to her quietly.

 

“Relax!” Jessica mumbled. She grabbed Foggy’s wrist just tight enough so that it wouldn’t break, but would hurt like a bitch. He recoiled immediately, rubbing his arm in pain.

“Jesus, are all lawyers that goddamn high-strung? I know him too, Daredevil, ‘Matt Murdock’ or whatever the hell his real name is. We’ve, um… we, I guess work together sometimes. He was your partner, wasn’t he?”

 

Foggy had nothing short of the most demonstrative face she’d ever seen. Foggy straightened his spine, dug his nose deeper down into the bow of his upper lip, his eyes squinting menacingly, or as menacingly as you can get with a name like ‘Foggy’.

“We were, yes,” he grunted. “Not anymore.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jessica joked. “I get that.”

 

Jessica turned to the front of the car again and took another swing from her bottle. They’d been in the car maybe five minutes, but they’d only made it about a block from Jessica’s apartment.

“Don’t worry,” Jessica resumed. “I’m not sure I care for him that much either.”

“How do you know… how do you know about… Daredevil?” Foggy whispered to her.

 

Jessica had a hearty chuckle at that. “Does your wrist still hurt?” she laughed.

Her head fell towards him, where he was still rubbing his hand.

“Let’s just say it’s the least I can do, and that little St. Matthew isn’t the only ‘special’ one running around this city.”

 

“Oh…” Foggy mumbled. The look on his face was painted again with a mix of that innocence, along with some kind of awe and fear, like he thought, or at one time thought Matt’s powers were cool, but knowing there was a stranger here, one-on-one, right in front of him with powers was a reality he somehow hadn’t considered.

 

“Don’t worry,” Jessica promised. “I’m only going to hurt you if you try to get in my pants.”

 

Their eyes met, and Foggy gulped his own saliva with the same force with which Jessica threw back another swig of her whiskey.

 

“Noted,” Foggy affirmed.

 

The back of the limo stayed quiet for a few moments after that, save for the sounds of Jessica hiccuping and the slight screech of the breaks every ten seconds. Jessica almost found herself falling asleep from the melody of the two. It was probably the liquor, though.

 

“So, um…” Foggy began after some time from the other side. “You look, uh… nice this evening.

 

Jessica chuckled with her eyes still closed. With a dumb grin on her face, she motioned her left hand to give a friendly salute Foggy’s way.

 

“No I don’t,” she replied, opening her eyes. “I guess all lawyers are liars just like Hogarth then, huh?”

 

Foggy didn’t find that as funny as she’d hoped, though he definitely didn’t seem offended. He kept his gaze steady out through his own window, looking certainly annoyed, though not at her.

 

Jessica flopped her left hand to smack Foggy on the arm.

“Hey,” she almost-yelled. “That was supposed to be funny.”

 

Foggy forced a small laugh but otherwise paid Jessica no mind.  Jessica found herself struck with that damned, annoying voice in her head that told her to see what was wrong, a voice that in her drunken state she could almost audibly curse out. Nevertheless, Jessica pushed herself clumsily upright, clearing her throat of all the extra phlegm.

 

“Alright,” she conceded. “I’ll bite. What’s on your mind there, Frankie?”

 

“It’s Foggy,” he sternly correctly without turning to her.

 

“That’s what I said,” Jessica replied. “What’s got your nuts in a twist, Fog? Still thinking about Corporate Barbie who shot ya down? Was your Malibu Dream house too small?”

 

“That’s only half the case, I guess,” Foggy answered honestly, much to Jessica’s surprise.

“She’d been flirting with this new partner for a few months now. She said ‘don’t be such a downer, Nelson, I’m just schmoozing’!”  He even used a screechy voice to mimic her, which Jessica was amused by.

“The other half was my fault, though,” he admitted. Foggy tilted his head toward her, his mouth twisted slightly into a defeated frown. “To be honest, after that falling out I had with uh, with Matt, I guess I got a little distant. I was uh,” he huffed, “not in the best of places. She said she did it because she was tired of taking a backseat to me whining about Matt this, Matt that. She said she was going to need more attention if we were going to make this relationship work, and she definitely got my attention after she did that. I can’t completely say she was wrong, though, that’s the worst part.”

 

“Did what?” Jessica asked.

 

“Hogarth didn’t tell you?” Foggy replied confused. “Are… are you serious?”

 

“She did, I just want to make you relive it,” Jessica retorted sarcastically. “No, Hogarth doesn’t tell me anything.”

 

Foggy huffed loudly, once again returning his eyes back towards the street outside.

“She sent me a video of the two of them having sex on my desk.”

 

Jessica felt terrible doing so, of course, but she couldn’t help but burst into uncontrollable laughter. Foggy rightly looked insulted, watched her with the most furrowed of brows as she went on, practically hyperventilating.

“Thanks!” Foggy yelled. “I’ve already gotten it from the whole damn office, I really don’t need it from you!”

 

Jessica continued on for a little bit before she had enough air in her to speak.

“I’m sorry,” she got out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Jessica waved her hands about her face, zipped her fingertips closed in a motion of composure.

“So,” she continued. “I take it these two will be here tonight, more than likely together?”

“Guess so,” Foggy grumbled with his gaze down at his feet. Jessica was not one to try to inspire people regularly, but this time she couldn’t help it. He looked like a droopy old dog who got locked out of the house in the rain. Damn it, she had a soft spot for animals.

 

“Well,” she sighed, before drinking more. “What’re we gonna do about it?”

 

Foggy looked up at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”, he asked.

 

“Uh, what do you mean, what do I mean?” Jessica retorted. “What are you going to do about it when we get there?”

 

Foggy shifted his whole body towards Jessica for the first time since she’d gotten in the car.

“I… I’m not following…”, Foggy admitted.

“Ugh, what, did you take law school in Chinese?”, Jessica mocked. “When we get to this shindig, and you see your little bimbo walking around with this _guy_ , who I’m _sure_ has a toupee, what are you going to do?”

 

Foggy sat still and silent for a moment, again like he hadn’t considered the most obvious of realities.

“Um,” he began. “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Well I’ll tell you one thing,” Jessica declared as she too turned to face her whole body towards Foggy. Jessica extended her hands out onto Foggy’s, like they were two schoolgirls sharing secrets. Come to think it, Jessica and Trish probably _had_ sat exactly like this a time or two. Foggy looked around embarrassed, as if looking for an invisible entity to come bail him out.

“Listen,” Jessica began again, looking Foggy as squarely in the eye as she could in this state. “This is what we have to do, mostly so I don’t have to be bothered with Hogarth getting up my ass with these favors anymore. You have to,” she hiccupped, “you have to promise me, Foggy, that you are gonna have a grand old time at this goddamn party, you hear me? You better walk in there like your shit don’t stink and own the _fuck_ out of this merger, okay? Fuck whatever her name is, and fuck that old guy too, right?”

 

Jessica shook Foggy’s hands in hers in attempt to get him to agree.

“Right?”, she prodded again. “Come on, man, _right?”_

 

Foggy nodded his head slightly like he was coming around.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re probably right. It’d be for the best.”

“ _You’re probably right, it’ll be for the best!”,_ Jessica mocked. “Come on, say it like you fucking mean it! Repeat after me, come on – FUCK. THEM.”

 

Foggy was toeing the line between thinking Jessica was out of her mind and thinking Jessica was dead on. He groaned, but conceded.

“Fuck them,” he said, way too calmly for Jessica’s liking. Let’s face it, Jessica barely gave a shit if this guy made it out of there in one piece or not. She wanted Hogarth out of her hair for good though, and if this was the last favor she’d after have to do for Hogarth, then she would get this guy pumped up enough to bench press an ox.

“That was bullshit and you know it,” Jessica reprimanded, cocking her head slightly in disappointment. “Again! FUCK. THEM. LOUD!”

 

“Fuck. Them,” Foggy said more sternly. He looked like he was getting the hang of it; his eye’s tensed up in concentration.

 

“One more time, c’mon! Fuck… wait, what’s her name again?”

“Marci,” Foggy answered.

“Of course it is,” Jessica groaned. “Fuck Marci! Fuck toupee guy! And y’know what…” Jessica leaned in closely; she really wanted Foggy to hear this one.

“Fuck Matt too, huh?”

“Fuck _Matt_?” Foggy questioned, wincing away from Jessica. “Why fuck Matt?”

“What do you mean, _why fuck Matt_?”, Jessica snarled. She backed herself away from Foggy in return, recoiling in a perceived slight.

“Matt appears to be the reason we’ve gotten ourselves into this situation, isn’t he, your honor?’, Jessica yelled.

“That’s not how…”, Foggy corrected, but Jessica interrupted.

“If it wasn’t for Matt being a shitty guy, breaking up with you, fucking you up so much that even your _girlfriend_ breaks up with you, you and Lawyer Barbie would be making out in the back of this limo, you’d score that merger, and you and Hogarth would have left me the hell alone.” Jessica found herself becoming so impassioned with her own speech that she smacked the warm leather of the car seat with every point.

“I know it,” she continued, “and you know it.”

 

This had done the trick, Jessica was sure. In Foggy’s eyes appeared a look of the purest determination. It almost could have _inspired_ Jessica, that’s how strongly she could feel it. Foggy nodded his head furiously, allowing the idea to permeate the entire limousine.

“You’re right,” Foggy spoke quickly. “Fuck Matt,” he added quickly after.

 

Jessica leaned her ear towards Foggy, cupping her hand around it.

“I can’t heeeaarrrrrr youuuuuu…”, she exaggerated.

“FUCK. MATT.” Foggy was loud and clear this time. “FUCK MATT.”

“FUCK MATT!” Jessica yelled as she pumped her first. Goddamn it, she _was_ inspired.

“FUCK MATT,” from Foggy.

“FUCK MATT,” from Jessica.

 

The two continued on until their voices synced and the two were chanting loud enough they could break down Matt’s apartment door. After a few more rounds, Foggy sat, legs pointed straight ahead of him, panting like he ran the Marathon.

“Phew, that felt good,” Foggy whooped as he pumped his fists.

“Well, easy there, tiger. We didn’t just win the JV championships,” Jessica chimed.

“So, what are we gonna do when we get there, huh?”

“We’re gonna walk in there,” began Foggy, “we’re gonna pretend Marci and Brenigan aren’t even there, no matter _how_ good Marci looks tonight, we’re gonna own the everloving SHIT out of this merger, and we’re gonna show everybody there that Foggy Nelson doesn’t need Matt Murdock to be successful!”

 

Jessica felt like a proud Mom, and she nodded along sloppily to everything Foggy was saying. She normally wouldn’t do this for _anyone_ , but once he was finished, Jessica couldn’t help herself but to extend her flask over to Foggy.

“What’s this,” Foggy asked curiously.

“Don’t worry about what it is,” Jessica affirmed. “You _deserve_ it.”

 

Foggy was skeptical, but nevertheless reached out his hand to grab the flask. He sniffed the nozzle, and Jessica nodded hopefully at him in encouragement. Foggy gingerly put his lips up to the rim…

“No, no, no, don’t put your _mouth_ on it, Jesus,” Jessica scolded.

Foggy listened, immediately putting the flask about an inch above his head and poured a small bit of the whiskey into his mouth. Jessica didn’t take him for a whiskey drinker in the slightest, but Foggy looked thoroughly unfazed by the alcohol.

“Is that Maker’s?”, Foggy asked. “Good choice,” he added with a smile.

Jessica earnestly laughed. “Oh…. You and I are gonna have fun.”

  


They pulled up to the hotel that held the party about forty minutes after they’d gotten in the car. By then, Jessica and Foggy had finished the contents of her flask, and though she was shitfaced, Jessica was sure Foggy was feeling pretty good.

“Let’s do this,” Foggy encouraged, rather cheerleader-y for Jessica’s personal taste, but whatever.

 

The two exited the limonene. Foggy confidently adjusted his suit jacket and cufflinks as Jessica slammed her door and took in the scene. The entire entrance of the Kimpton Ink48 Hotel was roped off and guarded by a dozen NYPD officers, complete with helmets and bulletproof vests. The building itself was rather nondescript, standing only about thirteen floors high, meager by Manhattan standards. Almost all the way up was one floor glowing brightly with red and green lights. While she gawked up and this floor that undoubtedly held their party, Foggy had quietly approached Jessica and offered out his left arm for her.

 

It’s not as if Jessica had never seen someone do this before. It just wasn’t to her.

“What are you doing?”, Jessica asked with a disgusted inflection and she stared at Foggy’s arm.

“Well, we’re together, aren’t we?”, Foggy asked. “Shouldn’t we walk in like we’re together?”

 

Jessica huffed; to say she wasn’t thrilled was an understatement, but hey. Jessica rolled her eyes as she interlocked her right arm with Foggy’s left as the two began to walk towards the entrance and there limo pulled away.

 

The front door for monitored by a slender man with what appeared to Jessica to be a Jerry-curl and a too-sharp goatee, dressed in a slim fitting 3 piece suit not dissimilar in color to Foggy’s. He looked at Foggy and Jessica with such a look of combined enthusiasm and boredom that Jessica found herself impressed.

 

“Good evening, sir, madam,” he greeted as when the two reached to foot of his podium. “May I have your names, please?”

 

Foggy cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he grumbled, puffing his chest out like any other pigeon. “Franklin Nelson is the name, plus one.”

“And your name, ma’am?”, the host asked as he scanned his list for Foggy’s name. Jessica and Foggy shared a look of slight confusion.

“Uh, _she’s_ the plus one,” Foggy added.

 

The host looked up from his clipboard.

“Oh no, sir,” he corrected. “All of the RSVP’s tonight were entered in individually.” He looked hurriedly at Jessica. “I just need your name, ma’am.”

 

“Uh…” Jessica began, wracking her brain uselessly. “Uh… it’s Rachel.”

“Rachel…?” the host prodded, a harsh tone in his voice signifying his waning patience.

Jessica turned her head swiftly to Foggy. She didn’t know what the hell her name was supposed to be, Hogarth never told her. Foggy had been the one to even get the “Rachel” part out. Foggy squinted his eyes, not so much at the host, but into the blank space.

“Rachel…”, he said tentatively, “… Rixon?”

The host looked at them stunned by their stupidity.

“Rachel Ray?”, Jessica threw out at a half-joke.

 

“I’m sorry, are you serious?”, the host spat. “All I need is your name, ma’am.”

 

Jessica and Foggy looked at each other with an equal look of desperation. Foggy's eyes looked like they were rolling into the back of his head, searching frantically on the inside for the goddamn name. Jessica was in her right mind just to knock the host out and make her way inside; she didn't care if there were cops around or not.

 

"Rachel Richter, is the name," said the cold voice of Jeri Hogarth as she appeared suddenly behind him, the shock of which made Foggy stumble back and Jessica hiccup loudly.

 

The host scanned his list and checked Jessica's assumed name off the list. He raised his head again and gave the three the most fake, unamused smile.

"Thank you, Ms. Hogarth," he forced. "You're all set to head up,"

 

Hogarth put one hand on Jessica and one and Foggy and began to push them inside the hotel like misbehaving children. She forced the two all the way through the lobby and into the open elevator, all as Foggy attempted to make refined, professional small talk with Hogarth to no avail. 

 

The elevator was almost the size of Trish's entire bedroom, Jessica thought, complete with a crystal banister under a huge sheet of mirror and gold crown molding. Jessica and Foggy seamlessly sunk into one corner, shoulder to shoulder as they looked on at Hogarth, whose stern gaze never left the elevator doors. Finally, Hogarth, sighed disgustedly and spoke.

 

"Jessica, I can  _smell_  you from here," Hogarth hissed, finally only turning her head towards them, eyes filled with disdain.

"Did it ever cross your mind to  _not to_ arrive completely  _shitfaced_ for once?"

 

Foggy glanced at Jessica stunned, and he even attempted to clear his own boozy throat to cop an explanation. Jessica's sharp tongue beat him to it.

"Should have drawn up a contract," Jessica lulled. She threw her thumb over to Foggy. "Refer to my lawyer."

 

Hogarth sighed heavily, turning to approach the two, undoubtedly to reprimand Jessica some more. That was, until she took a good look at Foggy, who apparently had become somewhat of a paranoid drunk, at least in the presence of Hogarth. His eyes bulged out at her as she trudged forth. Hogarth halted when she was halfway to them.

 

"Great," she said, "You too?" Foggy nodded quickly in response.

"He's fine," Jessica countered.

 

Hogarth stomped the rest of the way until she was only inches away from Jessica's face, close enough that Jessica could see all the fine wrinkles around Hogarth's mouth from all the scowling.

"I'm going to ask you this... one more time," she whispered. Hogarth pointed quickly at Foggy as well.

"You too," she added. "Please... both of you... do not screw this up for us... Actually, YOU," she directed at Foggy, "YOU better pull yourself together, because if this merger does not go well,  _so help me God,_  you will not even be able to get a job with Celino and  _Barnes_ , do you hear me?"

 

Foggy didn't seem like he had ever stopped nodding during Hogarth's whole speech, and even as the elevator doors opened and Hogarth stepped out right onto the floor of the party, Foggy was still shaking his head up and down like a beagle on a dashboard. Jessica swiftly smacked him on the back of the head.

"Snap out of it," she hissed to him. It seemed to help; Foggy shook is head, like he was fucking possessed, Jessica thought.  Without another word, Jessica grabbed onto Foggy's already sweating arm and pulled him out towards the elevator door. 

 

This suite was realistically not something Jessica hadn't seen before, albeit not in person. It had to be close to five thousand square feet, and maybe half that much of a patio outside, and everywhere was wall-to-wall with suits. In one corner, Jessica could see a few tables set up with silk, green tablecloths, hors d'oeuvres, and poinsettias, otherwise no sign of Christmas. The lighting seemed to be better suited for a strip club than a Christmas party; the room was dimly lit with a set of dense, yellow bulbs, and the occasional red or green one, leaving most of the faces in the crowd cast with shadow. Jessica suspected most of these people were already three-sheets to the wind off of expensive drinks and couldn't make out faces anyway. Of course, there was the traditional miserable, bow-tied waiters walking around with plates of what Jessica assumed was caviar, or some kind of tuna thing. At one end of the suite, Jessica could see Hogarth shaking hands with about fifteen people at a long table at the for end of the room.

 

"Jeez," Jessica mumbled to Foggy as they made their way through a hotel worker breathily greeting them with, "Welcome to Heaven in Hell's Kitchen."

"Do we really need this many lawyers in Hell's Kitchen?", Jessica added.

"Hey," Foggy said finally, gulping loudly before he did. "You've seen what goes here... oh, shit."

 

Foggy cut off quickly, avoiding what seemed to be the back left corner of the room. Jessica of course immediately shot a glance in that exact direction, and she didn’t need to look much farther around to figure out exactly who Foggy was avoiding. She had to say, she wasn’t surprised how right she was on this one. Approaching them was a buxom, finely pressed, run of the mill maneater in a tight, red halter dress and goddamn _costume antlers._ This _had_ to be Marci, Jessica thought, and she could feel an expression of disgust molding across her face. Marci made a beeline for Foggy, smiling like she was in a real estate ad.

 

“Well, well, well,” Marci cooed. “Didn’t think you’d make it over, Foggy Bear. Brenigan’s been prepping your schpeel for the merger all day.”

 

“ _Foggy Bear_ ? Isn’t she a _lawyer?_ ”, Jessica whispered too-loudly to Foggy.

“I’m sorry, and you are?”, Marci snarkily asked, obviously hearing her.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Jessica mocked, putting on her biggest pageant smile and extending her hand towards Marci, only to have Foggy quickly wrangle it back down to her side.

“Marci, this is my date, Rachel,” Foggy replied confidently, “And you know I couldn’t miss the merger for the world. Matter of fact, Hogarth’s said that the ‘schpeel’ I’ve been working on is, _so_ good, that _when_ Gordon  & Arndt accept the proposal, there’s that new corner office on the twelfth floor waiting for me. You know, that office that Brenigan tried to brownnose his way into before the stuck in next to the sixth floor waiting room?”

 

Foggy softened his grip on Jessica, moving his hand firmly up to her shoulder and motioning her away.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a party to get to. Call me when you need a bigger ass to kiss.”  


“Are you the same guy from in the limo?”, Jessica asked Foggy when they were well out of earshot and heading towards the bar, leaving Marci thoroughly pissed off.

“Oh trust me, I’m crapping my pants still,” Foggy confirmed as he held a finger up to beckon the bartender.

“Guess you know how to pick ‘em,” Jessica smiled, “and I guess I don’t have much to live up to.”

 

Foggy ordered the two scotches on the rocks, Jessica enacting her unlimited-alcohol clause from the deal with Hogarth. Foggy promptly ordered two more after hearing that.

“So, “ Jessica began after a long, slow slip from her glass. “Who’re the key players here? Where’s the other half of that little… shit clique?”

 

Foggy pointed over at that long table towards the back of the room where Hogarth was sitting under a huge projector with a corny stock photo of an aerial angle of the Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz team.  

“See that guy two seats to the left of Hogarth?”

 

Jessica did see him, and she was absolutely floored by the fact that this guy didn’t have a toupee. Instead, the man Foggy pointed too looked like an overgrown frat boy, long brown hair gelled over in a quaff, charming smile beaming at anyone who got caught in the Bermuda Triangle of his overly-projected machismo.

 

“That’s Adam Brenigan. He’s been a partner for a little over three years now, and if Hogarth has as much faith in me as I hope she does, it’s me and him vying for the fourth spot on the HC&B name.”

Jessica noted the man as Marci approached him from behind and whispered something into his ear.

 

"Alright, and for all us common folk, what exactly  _is_ a merger?", Jessica voiced, a question she'd been mulling over in her head since Hogarth's call.

Foggy, apparently having a thing for this, put a hand to Jessica's shoulder and turned her slightly to see the remainder of the dais table.

"See those last five guys there on the end?", Foggy questioned. Jessica did, another set of average looking men in suits she couldn't tell apart from anyone else in a suit not involved with a "merger".

"They're from the firm Gordon & Arndt from down by the financial district; they're a small firm, but they're powerful. They got the acquittal for that Roy Stevens from the Knicks after he got caught up in all those sexual assault charges in Brooklyn. Hogarth is spearheading this; essentially she wants to have our people and their people arrange for our two firms to... well, merge, so we get the combined client base, combined press, combined bucks. A monopoly of legal services throughout Manhattan."

  


Jessica took a gulp of her whiskey.

"Sounds like a match made in heaven," she quipped.

"Sure is," Foggy replied dissatisfied.

"So what's your role in this? What exactly am I here to keep you from fucking up?"

"Well," Foggy cleared his throat, turning to lean his elbows on the bar. Jessica followed suit.

"This was my first big job after I joined the firm. They assigned me to meet the older partner, Augustus Arndt. Take him to lunch, make nice, put out feelers. Turns out the guy is a booze bag, completely off the wall, a real whacko. We ended up getting shit-faced at lunch, and after that whenever we tried to set up meetings with them, he'd always ask for me. I became the sort of, de facto liaison."

 

Foggy turned over one shoulder and gave a quick point towards the dais table.

"See that guy fourth from the left with the Santa Claus tie?"

"Okay...", Jessica said sneeringly, noting the man. "So why would they think you'd blow this thing if you two are so chum-y?"

 

Foggy took a swig of his own drink and shook his head, avoiding the question at first.

 

"Well?", Jessica insisted. 

 

"Let's just say I didn't handle the break-up very well," Foggy admitted.

 

"Well I know THAT, Hogarth gave me a preview," Jessica quipped.

"I wanna know what you DID."

 

Before Foggy could answer, Hogarth appeared again suddenly from behind them.

"Nelson," she whispered to Foggy as she grabbed at the back of Foggy's neck, much like a mother cat. "We need to start moving this thing along." Hogarth shot Foggy a stern, yet innocuous look as he turned to meet her gaze. "Don't screw this up." Hogarth noted the glass of whiskey in Foggy's hand, grabbing it and slamming it down on the counter before she turned away.

"And leave this here," she commanded. Before she walked away completely, Hogarth stopped herself in front of Jessica. For the first time since she'd known Hogarth, Jessica noticed Hogarth had put on some kind of perfume.

"Do not... get yourself into trouble out here...", Hogarth began.

"Or what?", Jessica spat. "You kick me out?"

 

Hogarth rolled her eyes and walked off, Foggy following closely behind. His eyes were wild as he stared at Jessica and began to mouth to her.

"Wish me luck! I can do this, I can do this!"

 

Jessica wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, but she mouthed to him in reply.

"You got this, come on! Fuck Marci, fuck Matt!"

 

"Fuck Marci, fuck Matt!", Foggy mouthed before he was eventually pulled out of the suite by Hogarth.

 

And there she was, standing alone at a bar full of complete assholes. Jessica heaved a heavy breath, and she peered around her; she thought she was looking for something to do, someone to talk to, all the while knowing she was staying parked at the bar. She shifted to lean her elbows back onto the bar. She'd finished her first whiskey, and before her still sat the extra round Foggy put on her tab, plus his unfinished drink. Jessica glanced up behind the bar where she spotted a thin slab of mirror. She looked probably better than she had on any recent occasion; objectively, she was probably still a mess. Her hair was laying flat on her head, and so she flipped and flopped it about. She thumbed the uneven edges of her lipstick, still a vibrant red even though some of it had stained the rim of her flask.

 

_You know I hate that color,_ a voice echoed around her

 

She reached out to Foggy's half-empty glass first and downed that, and then she grabbed one closer to her she began to nurse. She had hoped to never be alone tonight, as much as she thought she'd want to be; she didn't want to risk being inside her own head, but there it was. 

 

"So...", a voice called from behind her this time. " _Rachel,_ huh _?"_

Suddenly Marci appeared on the bar next to Jessica. Jessica still really couldn't believe her outfit. It would have been more fitting for holiday party for merpeople. Marci looked on at Jessica with such an air of self-satisfaction that Jessica could tell if it was Marci's face making her want to throw up or the alcohol. Her faux antlers bounced back and forth as Marci cocked her head.

"Do you think you're really fooling anyone?" Marci jeered.

Jessica swallowed the gulp of whiskey she held in her mouth. "I think it must've taken you an  _awful_ long time to get here from the North Pole. What'sa matter, 'ho ho ho' jokes weren't enough for you?"

 

Marci tightened her smile and squinted her eyes.

"Cute," she snickered, leaning closer to Jessica. "You think I don't know who you  _really_  are?"

"Trust me, I'm just as uninterested in your bullshit as I look on the outside," Jessica responded flatly.

"You are a  _case_ , Jessica Jones," Marci whispered with those magic words. Jessica shouldn't have felt as awkward and slightly ashamed as she did - hell, Hogarth probably should've been ashamed for inviting her - but that didn't stop the lump in her throat from growing.

"So what?", Jessica challenged ignoring her growing worry. "You gonna rat me out to the  _firm?"_

"I'm not going to 'rat you out' to anybody," Marci cooed. "Mostly because I give a shit about our merger and our reputation way to much to remind everyone that we ask our psychotic clients for  _favors_  once the charges are dropped."

 

This would be about the time Jessica would consider grabbing her glass and swinging it across Marci's temple. The pit in her stomach managed to keep her limbs from working.

 

"Psychotic, huh?", Jessica asked dryly.

 

"If that's what you'd call a woman who uses  _mind control_  to cover her ass for a  _murder_ , and  _several other murders_ , then yes, psychotic."

 

_Tell that snarly twit she's wrong, Jessica,_ the voice said again.

 

Jessica only stared at Marci's beaming face and she slug back the rest of Foggy's drink.

 

"What's your point?", she mustered.

 

“Just that if you want to show up to _my_ office Christmas party and judge _me_ , you better expect to get it back, sweetheart,” Marci replied smugly, keeping that stupid smile on her face as she held Jessica’s gaze and walked back into the party.

 

It wasn’t much, and God forbid Jessica ever be the type of person to let the opinions of strangers get to her, but this wasn’t a stranger, not so much. Jessica couldn’t help herself but to allow it all to swirl recklessly through her head, dizzily albeit, but nevertheless it persisted.

 

Jessica turned back on the bar, unable to shake herself awake.

_Psychopath,_ the voice whispered to her. _Who does she think she is, eh? She doesn’t know you, Jessica._

 

“Stop,” Jessica found herself whispering back. She rubbed her left hand along her hairline, her hand wet with condensation from the glass. Jessica found the water cooled her, made her feel just a small bit better. Until she looked up, and in the small lining of mirror, he was there.

 

_Not like I do, Jessica. Not like I always will._

 

Jessica hadn’t realized the glass she was holding has shattered and alcohol had leaked everywhere.

“S’cuse me, miss,” hurried the bartender as gingerly grabbed Jessica’s head and began to clean the mess beneath her.

“Oh, jeez!”, he exclaimed right as he touched her.

 

Jessica began to come to, and after the bartenders words, she finally looked down at herself, loosening her grip as glass fell from her hand. She had been bleeding; it must’ve been what the bartender reacted too so poorly, that and she just wasted a good portion of alcohol.

 

“Jesus,” she whispered, moving her hand away.

“Here,” the bartender called over, and he handed her a thick bundle of cocktail napkins. “Hold these.”

 

He forced them into her hand as Jessica could only just stare at the blood. She couldn’t even feel it.

 

“Go ahead, there’s a bathroom through that door in the corner. Go clean yourself. Jesus…”, he rambled off.

 

Jessica swung around. She noticed the door in the corner, yeah, and she stepped off the bar and approached that door, of course. She began to feel the sensation of blood trickling through her fingers and heard the returning sound of the bustling crowd. She vaguely made out the faces of some people turning to look on at her as she trudged through the party holding her bloody hand.

 

“Why doesn’t this end?”, Jessica thought and she blindly searched for the bathroom in the small, dark hallway behind that door.

“Why doesn’t this ever fucking end?”, she may have actually said out loud.

 

She opened door after door, exposing broom closet after broom closet, growing more and more frustrated with this process, and with her own crumbling mind.

 

“Why can’t you just stay out of my goddamn head?”, she asked again out loud, opening another door.

 

She moved on to the last door on the left side of the hallway, muttering.

 

“Why can’t you just _leave me alone?!”,_ she spat.

 

She flung open the door, and then she was forced to wake up.

 

When the door opened up, Jessica found herself met with familiar faces, namely a shocked looking Foggy and an irate looking Hogarth. Jessica had walked herself right into what she assumed was the formal “merger”.

 

“Oh my god,” Jessica mumbled, unable to take her eyes off the round table full of people formerly at the dais, all looking up at her in bewilderment.

 

“Jessica?”, Foggy asked. “Is everything okay?”

Jessica was frozen where she stood, and so she tried to explain herself away.

 

“I was, uh,” Jessica fumbled. “I was, uh, just looking for the bathroom.”

 

“ _Well you didn’t find it,”_ Hogarth hissed from her seat. “Now will you _please_ excuse us?”

 

“Uh,” Jessica grumbled as she began to back out of the room. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

 

Jessica took a crooked step out back into the hallway, closing the door only slightly before a third voice she didn’t recognize called out.

 

“Wait!”, the voice called. It was the voice of a somewhat elderly man, and if Jessica knew better (which she certainly did), he sounded shitfaced himself already. Jessica froze again in the doorway, still half-out of the room.

  
“Come back please, Miss,” the man called. Jessica was hesitant, and she could hear people whispering from inside, but still she complied.  She opened the door again and looked back at the table of people. Foggy still had the expression of surprise and concern; Hogarth’s look of complete fury had softened into only a muted look of disdain.

 

From the glances and stares of the remaining people, Jessica gathered that the man who had called out to her was an elderly man Foggy had pointed out to her as Arndt, something Arndt. His Santa Claus tie looked like someone tried to yank it off him, crooked and hanging around his shoulder. He was the only person at the table who had a drink in front of him, something clear and on ice, probably vodka. He had a mild comb-over, which looked to be on the greasier side and had fallen off its intended track. The guy looked to be nothing short of a complete mess.

 

“What happened to your hand there?”, the man asked, motioning at it with his head.

Jessica raided it to show the room. “Just an accident,” she announced to all. “I just need to clean up.”

 

The man looked like he was beckoning her towards him with his hand. Jessica remained in the doorway, now looking around at everyone in confusion herself.

“I, uh,” she said again. “I just need to _clean this up_.”

 

“I heard you,” the man insisted, motioning her over again. “Come here. I know just how to fix that.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Jessica said with a laugh.

 

“Let him help you,” Foggy said quickly. Jessica darted her eyes over to him a he was silently nodding and prodding her on.

“It’s okay,” Foggy mouthed. “Just do what he asks, please.”

 

Jessica was thrown, but she complied, and she walked herself over to where the man sat.

“You know this lovely lady, huh Nelson?”, the man asked Foggy.

Foggy straightened his posture to his stately-lawyer stance again, clearing his throat before he spoke.

“Yes,” he replied. “Mr. Arndt, everyone, this is, uh, this is Rachel, my date for this evening.”

 

“Rachel,” Arndt smiled. “I’d shake your hand if it weren’t gushing blood. Now come here.”

The man grabbed Jessica by the wrist and gave it a tug; instinctively she found herself trying to yank it back, but before she knew it, Arndt began to pour his alcohol from the glass on the table onto the ball of napkins Jessica clutched in her hand.

 

“Um, sir,” one of the Gordon & Arndt suits called to Arndt as he did this. “Shouldn’t we be continuing on with this…”.

 

“Hey, I don’t know about you people,” Arndt began. The more Jessica listened to him speak, the more she could make out an accent of some kind, some European something, she figured. “But I think lawyers are supposed to help people, and I only know how to help people with alcohol.”

 

When the napkins were good and saturated, Arndt held them over Jessica’s bleeding hand and began to wring them out, the vodka trickling downward onto Jessica’s wound.

 

“OW,” Jessica yelled, writhing under it.

“Shhh, hold still,” Arndt hissed. The pain was intense, and Jessica was scolding herself inwardly for even allowing this awful exchange to occur, but she could see whatever he was doing looked to be helping the bleeding. Suddenly, Arndt opened his free hand to reveal a series of scars of different shapes and sizes, not dissimilar from one’s that could have been made from a cut like Jessica’s.

  
“I have done this many a time, myself, you see,” Arndt said obviously, and when he’d rid the napkins of the excess alcohol, he placed the wet was back into Jessica’s hand, before removing his sloppy tie completely from his neck and wrapping it around Jessica’s hand like a tourniquet.

 

“Mr. Arndt, are you sure that’s appropriate?”, asked another lawyer, but Arndt ignored her.

 

“There,” he cooed at Jessica. “That will need more looking after of course, but it will be good enough so that you can enjoy the lovely party outside.” The old man looked up at Jessica and smiled, and through her sheer confusion and the stinging, she found herself subtly smiling back.

 

“Thanks,” she spoke. “Whisky usually works better for me. This helps too.”

 

“Ah…” Arndt chuckled at her. “You drink whisky? Back where I come from, a woman who drinks whisky has a very hard time finding a husband.”

 

“You can say that again,” Jessica and Hogarth somehow quipped simultaneously.

“Now Jessica, can you please excuse us while we finish our business?”, Hogarth added harshly.

 

“Her name is Rachel!”, Arndt hollered as he stood up, motioning for Jessica to take his seat at the table. Hogarth’s face fell a deathly pale color.

“Oh no no no,” Jessica mumbled as she was backing away. “You guys should get back to whatever it is you’re doing, I’ll go… somewhere else.”

“I insist!”, Arndt argued, all the while received comments similar to Hogarth from his own colleagues. “I think a fresh perspective will be good for decision making!”

 

Jessica shot a quick look at Foggy who, while still in a state of shock, looked back at Jessica and encouraged her to sit. Jessica fell languidly into the uncomfortable pleather seat, and Arndt began to pace around the room.

 

“I, I really don’t know anything about this politics stuff,” Jessica argued. “I still don’t know what a merger is.”

 

“Politics?”, Arndt asked. “You think lawyers are politicians.”

“I, I…” Jessica began, looking around at all the faces of the people around her; most looked furious.

“Don’t let them scare you, Rachel,” Arndt warned, sensing her apprehension. “Answer me honestly, please.”

“I…” Jessica began again. “I think you get the best money can buy you, that’s for sure.”

 

Arndt chuckled as he paced. “Well,” he began. “You are not wrong. Are you, affiliated with this firm at all, miss Rachel?”

“No,” Jessica answered, raising her injured hand. “But I guess I know where to turn if I decide to sue the… sue this hotel for their crummy glassware.”

Arndt laughed again. “Oh, you are certainly a character, miss Rachel. They’ve called me a character too before. But…” Arndt paused as he made his way behind Foggy’s seat and rested both hands firmly on Foggy’s shoulder. Jessica could see a faint rim of a handprint where the vodka on Arndt’s hands was staining Foggy’s jacket.

 

“But you know Mr. Nelson here, am I right?”

“Yes,” Jessica answered plainly.

“Well, let me explain something to you, Rachel, why I would like a… fresh opinion… if it were only Mr. Nelson, who I would be doing business with, I would sign every single contract you hand to me. This is a good man, this is a good lawyer. Young, kind, fair. This is how I was when I got into this business,” Arndt began as he lifted his wet hand off Foggy’s shoulder. Indeed, there was a handprint. Arndt was now using his free hand to point directly at the other lawyers from Hogarth’s firm.

“These people,” Arndt added. “These people are the best money can get you. These are _lawyers_. I do not know these people, I do not know if I can trust these people. I have met so many people like this, it doesn’t matter to me anymore which ones I surround myself with.”’

 

Arndt lifted his last hand off of Foggy and approached her again, looking down at her with a face so warm Jessica could throw up. Why was she even entertaining this?  
“Miss Rachel, my question to you is, can you explain to me why I should go into business with this team? Can you answer that?”

 

Jessica felt every eye in the room burning holes into as they all waiting tensely for an answer that would never come, completely, that is.

“No,” Jessica said after a moment. “No, I can’t answer that.”

“No?”, Arndt asked curiously. “Then what _can_ you answer?”

 

Jessica didn’t know what possessed her to do this. It may have been survival instinct and the overwhelming need to get the fuck out of there. It may have been the fact that she could see Foggy out of the corner of her eye, the big goddamn puppy dog he was. She didn’t know the guy before tonight, and she still barely knew him now, but she couldn’t help but want the poor slob to succeed. He was the only half-good person in this whole damn room.

 

It may have also been, of course, because if it weren’t for Hogarth, whatever, and who else, she wouldn’t have been sitting in that room in the first place.

 

“I uh, “ Jessica began, haphazardly shooting a look at Hogarth, who she’d never seen pray before, but if she had to guess, that’s what she was doing now. Jessica sighed, and went on.

“I can say this I guess,” Jessica began. “This firm… from what I hear, I guess… they’ve written away a lot of bad shit. A lot of good people get hurt, a lot of crazy being do a lot of bad shit, and they clean up the mess.”

 

Jessica’s own experiences flashed through her brain on repeats, visions of Trish, and Kilgrave, and Hope, and how all of it had been wiped away, except from her own head.

 

“And do you think that’s a good thing?” Arndt asked.

“Look, I don’t really know what you want from me…” Jessica broke, until she was kicked under the table by Foggy, who looked on at her disapprovingly.

 

“I guess,” Jessica started up again, trying to continue. “I guess I can say that I can’t promise I’ll never be one of those people. That’s what I can say.”

 

Arndt seemed to be pleased with what Jessica said, though she had not a clue in the world what purpose it could serve. Most of the lawyers looked on bored and tired at Arndt. Hogarth and Foggy still had their eyes on Jessica.

 

“Well thank you for humoring me Miss Rachel,” Arndt smiled. He held a directive hand to the door, offering a final bidding to Jessica.

“You may leave and get that hand properly cleaned up now,” he instructed.

 

Jessica was out of there before Arndt could even finish his sentence. What a fucking idiot, she thought. _What were you thinking, Jessica?_ If she hadn’t had fucking _Kilgrave_ in her head, she never would have fucking _cut her hand open…_

 

She swung open a random door on the other side of the hallway, which by her luck of course did happen to be the bathroom. She unwrapped Arndt’s stupid tie and threw it on the floor, chucking the vodka-ridden napkins in the garbage, and turning on the water to wash her hand. It stung like a motherfucker, and Jessica winced and moaned audibly as she tried to clean the wound off. There was not much else she can do for it right here and now, so when the wound she felt was completely free of vodka, she repatched it with some paper towels and wrapped it in the tie once again.

 

Jessica found herself looking in the mirror while she redid the tourniquet, and somehow now she looked a thousand times worse than when she had last seen herself. She looked paler than usual, and her eyes seemed to lose hours of sleep.

 

_Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jessica_ , said that goddamn voice again. _You still look beautiful to me._

 

Jessica slammed her fists down on the sink before her, sending it flying down into the tile floor. Bursts of water shot throughout the room, but all Jessica could hear was his goddamn voice in her head. She needed to leave. She needed to leave and go wherever she could to drink herself away until the voices stopped.

 

Jessica flew out of the bathroom and raced back down the hallway and back into the party, where again people craned their heads to look at her barging in. A few workers and waiters asked her if everything was okay, but she was too busy being frustrated and embarrassed. If he hadn’t called her name before jumping in front of her, she would’ve completely barreled him over.

 

“Jessica!”, Foggy hissed as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “We did it! We nailed it! I’m sorry about that in there, I told you the guy was a real whack-job. How’s your hand?”

 

Foggy attempted to hug Jessica around the waist, but Jessica was quick to shove him away. From the sound he made as Jessica’s hands hit his chest, she assumed she knocked the wind out of him.

 

“Good,” Jessica called when Foggy had settle away from her. “This means I can go now?”

 

“What are you talking about?”, Foggy wheezed. “The party just started!”

 

“Well you got what you needed out of me, didn’t you? I made a nice little dog and pony show for you in there, I think I can go home now can’t I?”

 

Jessica side-stepped Foggy and made a beeline for the elevator. She could hear Foggy yelling behind at her, until his voice trailed away through the closing doors.

 

Jessica stumbled outside and down a few blocks, pissed as all hell still reeling from the episode she'd had. The night air was absolutely frigid, but Jessica could barely feel it. A part of her said to go back to Trish's house, the part that was tired of the visions and hearing voices. The other part drove her directly towards the flashing fluorescent light of a small, run-down bar she spotted from about a block down. It wasn't anything to look at from the outside, and as Jessica peeked inside through the dusty window, it didn't look like much on the inside either. 

 

Perfect, Jessica thought.

 

Jessica swung open the squeaky wooden door. To her left she saw one burly female bartender, an older patron falling asleep on the bar, and a middle-aged biker-looking couple alternating between making out and arguing every two seconds. Towards the back, there was another older patron playing a game of pool at a table by himself. Jessica found herself a seat on the farthest end of the bar, and the bartender acknowledged her immediately.

 

"You sure this is the place you wanna be, sweetheart?" the woman asked.

"You guys got booze?" Jessica replied.

"Yes."

"Is it cheap?" Jessica followed up.

"Yeah."

Jessica gave the woman a bitter smirk. "Then I guess this is the place."

 

The woman raised her hands in concession and grabbed a bottle from her well, filling a glass with ice.

"Guess that'll be a double for you?" the woman asked. 

 

The bartender indeed poured Jessica a double and planted the glass in front her.

"Keep it rolling," Jessica instructed, whirling her finger around. "I may be here for a while." 

 

Jessica began to nurse her drink while she scoured her mind for a single positive thought to focus on rather than all the bullshit. She hoped it wouldn’t upset Trish that she couldn’t make it the entire evening without freaking out. Trish wanted her to have a good time; she'd probably throw together an excuse that left Jessica only a slave to circumstance. “The plumbing broke” wouldn’t be too much of a lie.

 

She hoped Foggy was at least happy. Jessica sipped her whisky, listening to the snoring of the man on her left and the drunken ramblings of the man at the pool table. She wondered how much she really helped him though; she'd barely let him get a word in edgewise in the limo, and he seemed perfectly capable at the party. It almost convinced her that Hogarth set the whole thing up to make an ass out of her. Whatever.

 

Jessica heard the squeaky door open again to her left and a few heavy footsteps entering in before they stopped dead in their tracks.

 

"Well would you look what the cat dragged in," the bartender chuckled at the person.

 

The person didn't speak. Not to the bartender, at least.

 

"Jessica?"

 

Jessica swung around to see none other than Foggy only a foot or two inside the bar, gaping directly at her. 

"Did you  _follow_ me?" Jessica sneered with her head slung over her shoulder.

"Uh, no, actually, I didn't", Foggy fumbled with a nervous laugh. "Josie's was the official bar of Nelson and Murdock. I figured I may as well leave too. I was just on my way home..."

 

Foggy trailed off as he slowly paced towards the seat next to Jessica.

"May I..."

"I don't care," Jessica finished dryly.

 

Foggy took the seat tentatively and ordered a drink from the bartender. Jessica kept her gaze locked in front of her, but she could feel Foggy glancing at her in quick bursts.

"Well?", Jessica asked. "Are you going to say something?"

"What the hell happened back there?"

 

It was a question Jessica knew to anticipate, but still a question Jessica didn't want to answer. Answering him would've made them some type of 'close'; Foggy would've known something about Jessica that put the people who did know in danger. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tie a noose and wait for someone else to be hung.

 

"Doesn't matter," Jessica grumbled. "You got your merger, didn't you?"

"Of course, it matters, Jessica," Foggy insisted as the bartender gave him his drink. "Before the meeting you were fine, then next thing I know your hand is bleeding  _really_ bad and you're running out of the party!"

 

Jessica paused, running the tip of her finger along the glass.

 

"Look," Jessica huffed. "You're better off just getting yourself home and staying the hell away from me and my issues, okay?"

 

"Is this about that... what, um... what happened?" Foggy prodded. Jessica met his gaze. He looked _just_ like a goddamn puppy, and boy, was it pissing Jessica off.

"If I say yes, will you leave it alone?" she wondered.

"No," Foggy insisted.

"Then it's not," Jessica countered smugly.

 

Foggy sighed deeply and hung his head quickly into his chest.

"Alright, fine," Foggy huffed, and as he picked her head up again he added, "Will you at least let me buy you a drink?"

"For what?" Jessica challenged.

"Uh, for  _helping_ ?" Foggy exclaimed. "Don't you have  _friends?_ "

 

"Ha!" cackled the bartender from down the bar, looking over her shoulder towards Foggy while she cleaned the taps on the wall.

  
"You're talkin' to her about friends?" she continued. "You'd be one to talk! Haven't seen you in here with that nerdy kid with the sunglasses or that nice blonde girl in a  _long_  time."

"Blonde girl, huh?" Jessica was quick to pick up on.

"Sounds like you've got a type."

"It wasn't like that!" Foggy snapped, the quickness of which let Jessica assume it probably was  _like that_.

"Oh the hell it wasn't, you used to gawk over her ‘til she started warming up to the shades kid!"

"THANK YOU, JOSIE!" Foggy yelled nervously. 

 

Foggy looked over at Jessica who was nodding sarcastically at him.

"You have a type," she confirmed.

Foggy sighed again. "I have a type."

"Who was she?" Jessica asked. Jessica mostly wanted to know so she could sing that 'kissing in a tree" song.

"She was, well, is... it's Karen, Karen Page. She used to work with me and Matt, she was our secretary I guess you could say."

"Just keep digging the hole deeper," Jessica smiled.

 

Foggy was growing such a vibrant shade of red that Jessica almost felt guilty, and the shade deepened tenfold as Josie the bartender brought over a framed picture off one of the walls and placed it in front of Jessica. Jessica recognized two out of the three subjects. One was of course Foggy, leaning over the pool table in the back looking on intently at a pretty blonde girl she'd never seen before; behind the blonde girl was Matt.

 

"See, here you are, gawkin' at her," Josie laughed. "So don't you go tellin' this nice lady about friends!"

 

Josie walked away to tend to other patrons. Jessica took the time to add to Josie's point.

"See?" Jessica asked. "Don't talk to me about  _friends._  You've already got some you apparently don't speak to, and I don't need any."

 

"Okay fine, I won't buy you a drink," Foggy huffed, still not showing even an inch of frustration.

"Can I just say thank you then?"

"You think my little schpeel actually helped you guys get your merger?" Jessica asked suspiciously.

"Well, if I'm being honest, no", Foggy admitted, sipping from his glass. "But I think Arndt did like you."

"So why are you thanking me if I didn't do anything?"

"It's not for  _that_ ," Foggy relented. "It's for, y'know..."

 

Foggy hung his head again quickly before composing himself.  
"For being my date," he finished. "I know... I know you didn't want to, but, for what it's worth I appreciate it."

 

"Y'know," Jessica began in contrast. "It was a little goddamn suspicious if you ask me."

"What was?", Foggy prodded.

"You didn't need my help..." Jessica added, but after she began to speak, Foggy pointed a finger up at her and immediately reached for his phone.

"Okay, I'll bite," he said as he struggled for it.

"What?" Jessica said cautiously.

"You wanna see what they were worried about?" Foggy asked while he thumbed through his phone. "Well, here you go."

 

Foggy slid the phone in front of Jessica, and immediately Jessica was watching what looked to be video of the hallways of the law firm. She could hear faintly what sounded like giggling and whispering, and as the person moved down the hall, the sound of some kind of music and singing became clearer and clearer. Whoever was filming stopped outside of someone's office door, and Jessica could now distinctly hear that the song playing was "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion, and the voice singing along was rather not singing, but sobbing. 

 

Jessica hesitantly lifted her head to Foggy.

"No way..." she wisped.

"Just keep watching," Foggy instructed.

Jessica looked back at the phone, and sure enough, the video cut to the image of Foggy, in his own office she assumed, seemingly slow dancing with himself, tears streaming down his face as he sang-sobbed along with the song.

 

"Oh my god," Jessica exclaimed, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Foggy pulled the phone away from her and put it back in his pocket.

"Yep," he affirmed. "That was Brenigan filming that. He sent it to the entire office. Hogarth caught wind of it, of course, sat me down, and I guess she still didn't believe I could handle it without falling flat on my ass."

 

"Sounds like you  _do_ need better friends," Jessica chuckled. Foggy met her glance, and the two sat shaking there heads and laughing with one another for a moment. 

"So can I buy you a drink?", Foggy asked.

Jessica sighed, flinging her arms open.

"If you must," she agreed.

 

Foggy's smile grew and wrapped itself into small dimples at the bottom of his round cheeks. He picked up his left hand and turned around, waving Josie back over in their direction. However, unbeknownst to the two of them, the woman from the weird biker couple had moved over to the seat directly next to Foggy, and as he raised his left arm, Foggy accidentally elbowed the women in the breast. 

"Ooh!", Foggy yelled as he recoiled his hand back. "I am so sorry!"

  
The woman apparently didn't care, or was too drunk to understand what had happened. She sprung her body over in Foggy's direction, the smell of her cinnamon whisky overbearing upon them as she began to scream and spit in Foggy's face.

"What the fuck is your problem?" the woman yelled, waving her hands in Foggy's face. "You some kind of pervert or something?"

"Hey," Jessica butt in. "It was a fucking accident,  _lady._ He said he was sorry."

 

"The hell's going on?"

 

Jessica turned down towards the pool table to see the other half of this pageant couple barreling back from the bathrooms.

"This fucking pervert just grabbed me!" the woman yelled.

"WHOA!" Foggy yelled. "I knocked into you BY ACCIDENT!"

 

The man was probably too drunk to care as well, because as soon as he got close enough, the man reached out and grabbed Foggy by the neck of his jacket, lifting him up in the air like a newborn kitten.

"The fuck is wrong you, boy?" the man yelled. "You think it's okay to put moves on my girl?"

 

"HEY!" Jessica screamed when the man had Foggy clean off the floor. Jessica sprung out of her seat and stormed over to the man, reaching up and cleanly snapping the man's wrist. The man howled and dropped Foggy on the floor, looking directly at Jessica with vengeful eyes.

 

"You fucking bitch!" the man spat, raising his good hand at Jessica. Jessica only had one good hand too, and she was quick to use it to change into man, gripping down on the man's fat neck as she ran him into the back wall. The man hit the wall with a massive thud, and as he struggled for air, Jessica forced him up the wall and off of the floor.

 

"How do you like it, asshole?" Jessica called up to him, when all of a sudden something came crashing down upon Jessica's back. Jessica yelped and fell to the floor, only to look up to see the woman had slammed her in the back with a barstool. Jessica thought quickly, though her head was throbbing; Jessica kicked at the woman's ankles, knocking her off balance, and with the other leg kicked the woman directly in the stomach. 

 

The man then grabbed Jessica by the shoulders. Jessica could see the man's enormous fist pump backwards, about to strike, until all of a sudden, a sound from behind the bar stopped the man in his tracks. It sounded like a loud click, and Jessica looked over to see Josie had cocked a shotgun and was pointing it towards them.

 

"You two get the hell out of here," Josie yelled to the man and woman, motioning them out with her head. "Don't think I won't blow your asses to smithereens."

 

The man lifted his hands in the air, while the woman straightened herself up and ran to meet him. The two ran out of the bar, the whole while shouting more threats at Jessica and Foggy, but Jessica's hearing was going in and out from the blow to back of the head.

 

Foggy had run over to her; she could faintly make out Foggy trying to ask her if she was okay, but it was hazy. Jessica could stand up okay, and the more she stayed and waited for her head to adjust, the better she felt.

 

"You need a hospital, NOW!" was the first full sentence she'd understood. 

"I... I'll be fine," Jessica blathered, holding the back of her head. She wasn't sure how the hell she'd gotten out of that without bleeding. 

"You got HIT. HARD. In the HEAD," Foggy was yelling. Jessica pushed passed him and out towards the door, Foggy following close behind.

"I think I just need to go home," Jessica said as she pushed the door opened and got hit with the frigid air again. 

"Are you  _kidding?"_ Foggy hissed after yelling something to Josie about a tab before following her out.

  
Jessica didn't slow down. Instead, she approached the next avenue, raising her bad hand up in the air for a cab.

 

"You think I haven't gotten hit really hard in the head before?" Jessica asked as she trudged on. It had been enough, really. She knew it was her fault, she knew it was her who decided to stick up for Foggy and get the shit kicked out of her, and that was what had pissed her off. She didn't need any more friends, but she'd been fucking that up.

 

In her only stroke of luck for the night, an open cab was approaching down up 10th Avenue, and veered immediately to the side for Jessica.

"Seriously?", Foggy called as she stopped to watch as Jessica climbed in the cab.

 

Jessica made sure she closed and locked the door before she allowed the driver to speed off, feeling the throbbing pain in her head and looking down at her hand, still wrapped in Arndt's Santa tie.

 

The next morning, Jessica woke up with a raging headache and a dry mouth, not an unusual occurrence by far. The sun was much higher and less in her face than it usually would be, leading her to believe she'd slept much later than she should have. Jessica felt a decent-sized knot had formed on her head from the chair, and her hand was still wrapped in a tie. 

 

From inside the living room she could hear Trish's intercom ringing, and Trish herself bounding over to the door to answer it. Trish had passed  out on the couch last night, undoubtedly waiting up for her. Jessica thought it would be kind of her to get up and recount the events of the evening with her.

 

"Okay, you can just send them up, thank you!" Trish was yelling into the intercom as Jessica passed through the bedroom door.

"Jeez, 'bout time," Trish joked to Jessica. "I thought I was going to have to go old-school and come in with the bucket of water like my mother."

"Those were the days," Jessica grumbled as she sat down on a bar stool while Trish began to fix her a coffee.

"So...?", Trish coaxed while she dug through her cabinets. "What happened? What was he like? Was he as forlorn as Hogarth made him sound?"

 

"He was sad in the way those pug dogs are sad," Jessica answered.

"I love pugs!", Trish laughed, pouring the coffee and sliding the mug to Jessica

"I know," Jessica grunted. "He needed a good kick in the ass that's for sure, but of course the evening always gets ruined somehow…”

 

"Define 'ruin'," Trish replied, just as the doorbell was ringing. As she walked over to answer it, she called back to Jessica.

"It's already in the papers! 'New York's Finest: Law Firms Representing NYC's Most Famous Criminals to Join Forces."

 

Trish swung open the door to be greeted with one of her doorman bear-hugging an enormous bouquet of flowers, so big the man had to lean his head back so he wasn't burying his face in pink and yellow roses.

"Oh jeez," Trish exclaimed again as she opened her arms to help decrease the load of flowers. "Did they say who these were from?"

"From that big law firm over on 45th Street," the man answered muffled and he handed off the bouquet. Trish shot a confused glance back at Jessica, who was already returning it with her coffee cup frozen halfway up to her mouth.

"They're addressed to a Miss Jones," the man continued, confirming their suspicions.

"Is it ticking?", Jessica asked sarcastically, a question Trish and the doorman ignored.

"Thank you, Mike," Trish uttered kindly as she shut the door and brought the flowers back over to the island where Jessica was drinking her coffee.

 

"This is 'ruined'?" Trish asked with an eyebrow cocked.

Jessica examined the bouquet without getting up from her chair - pink and yellow roses, with a few pockets of white lilies thrown in. Jessica would be sure to send a thank you note for the lovely Mother's Day present. Jessica wasn't sure exactly what she'd done to deserve this, something she probably couldn't remember between crashing the merger, and instigating a bar fight.

"Note's here on the back, see?" Trish called. Jessica couldn't even see the top of Trish's head from behind the girth of the flowers.

"Oh, he seems sweet!" Trish yelled over. Trish side-stepped the flowers to slide Jessica a small, square, white canvas note. Trish lifted her hand to reveal the top of the note, the letters HC&B stitched in gold.

 

Jessica picked the note up and turned it over. On the backside was small chicken-scratch writing with various cross-outs. She didn't know else she should have expected.

 

_Jessica,_ the note began,  _I know you were probably hoping to never hear from me or the firm again, but I wanted to take a moment to say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night, and I can't thank you enough for being as kind as you could to me._

 

"Kind?", Jessica asked out loud.

"Just read the rest," Trish replied.

 

_I kind of wish you didn't just peel off like that. Hopefully you're getting your head checked. Thank you for sticking up for me. I don't know if anyone's told you lately, but as far as all those heroes running around Hell’s Kitchen go, you're a pretty good one. Merry Christmas. Sincerely, Foggy. P.S. in case you ever need a lawyer, here's my number. Keep it in your phone._

 

"And what the hell happened to your head?!", Trish spat

 

Jessica looked on at the note, and again over at the flowers. Her night was a complete shit show, save for she guessed one thing.

  
"Guess I know how to make friends."

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for The Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz Christmas Spectacular](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703930) by [Lasenby_Heathcote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasenby_Heathcote/pseuds/Lasenby_Heathcote)




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